


Taking the Edge Off

by Nice_Valkyrie



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Foot Massage, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nice_Valkyrie/pseuds/Nice_Valkyrie
Summary: Roy was having a bad day. Not a particularly bad day, no worse than any other since arriving in Ishval, but he still wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk, bury his face in the pillow, and be somewhere else for as long as possible.Unfortunately, when he ducked into his tent after dinner, his bunk was occupied.





	Taking the Edge Off

Roy was having a bad day. Not a particularly bad day, no worse than any other since arriving in Ishval, but he still wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk, bury his face in the pillow, and be somewhere else for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, when he ducked into his tent after dinner, his bunk was occupied. Roy stopped short just inside and crossed his arms. “What do you want, Kimblee?”

Kimblee opened his eyes, but didn’t sit up or pull his arms out from behind his head. He looked comfortable, his feet were bare and one ankle resting on the other. “Oh, good, you’re back.”

A lazy interest had reared its head in Roy’s belly upon seeing Kimblee loose-limbed and spread out like that. How presumptuous. Roy let it die a whimpering death. “What do you want? You out of cigarettes or something?”

“I don’t smoke,” said Kimblee.

“Oh,” said Roy. Kimblee’s voice had that raspy quality Roy had learned signified smoking—though now that he thought about it, he had never smelled tobacco on him, only alchemy and blood and the general grime of the desert. “I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t see the value in it.”

Roy shrugged. “Take the edge off?”

Kimblee tilted his head a little and gave Roy a polite smile, as if he wasn’t really sure what Roy was talking about. “Do you smoke?”

“No,” said Roy.

“Drink, then?”

“I try not to.” Not that it was any of Kimblee’s business. Nosy man.

“That’s good.” Kimblee propped himself up on his arms and nodded at Roy. “You limped in here. Rock in your shoe?”

Nosy, perceptive, oddly-attractive man. “Just sore,” said Roy warily.

Kimblee patted the bed. “Sit. Let me rub your feet.”

For a moment, Roy wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “What? You want to—?”

“Rub your feet,” Kimblee repeated. His gaze was steady. “A massage. They help with aches and pains, you know.”

Roy didn’t know Kimblee well—at all, actually—except for a few things that made his stomach turn if he thought about them too hard. But a lot of things in Ishval made Roy’s stomach turn, and since some of them were his own doing, he felt sort of stripped of his right to judge other people for their own sins. Roy also knew that his limbs felt like lead weights and his head was pounding and he was desperate for any kind of distraction from his own hellishly shrieking thoughts.

Kimblee patted the bed again, like he was calling a dog—and Roy, God help him, kicked off his boots and went.

Kimblee crossed his legs, settling Roy’s feet in his lap and peeling off both socks. Roy was suddenly embarrassed; his feet were sticky from walking and coarse with calluses. But Kimblee didn’t seem to mind—he didn’t even pause before running his nails up one foot, which made Roy jump.

“Not ticklish, are you?” said Kimblee.

“No,” said Roy. But he shivered when Kimblee did it again.

“Just sensitive, then. I’ll try to be careful.”

Kimblee was confident, wrapping both hands around Roy’s foot and squeezing, flexing it at the arch. His hands were warm. He held Roy’s heel in one hand and rotated his foot. “Your calves are tight.”

Was that observation supposed to be innocent? “Oh,” said Roy.

“Your feet are rather nice, though. A lovely arch, and your toes are a good length.”

Roy wasn’t sure how to respond to that, or what to make of the little current of excitement that ran through him at the words. “Um, thanks. Yours too?”

Kimblee wiggled the toes that Roy could see. “They’re not quite ideal, but I’m fond of them, yes.”

Roy hoped that Kimblee wasn’t expecting a reciprocal massage. He had run out of things to say about either of their feet.

But Kimblee let the silence return, pressing his thumbs over Roy’s sole, kneading the arch with just enough pressure that Roy had to swallow a contented sound. He didn’t want to do anything that might destroy the environment of quiet comfort. He watched Kimblee’s hand move with easy sureness and his eyes went half-lidded.

“You’re unhappy here, aren’t you?” said Kimblee.

Well, it was destroyed now anyway. A part of Roy wanted to tell Kimblee to fuck off, but it was small and feeble. A greater part wanted to purge some of his misery. “Isn’t everyone?”

“Hm. I’m not surprised you would see it that way. But you appear to be suffering more than most.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” said Roy. He was too tired to put any real authority in his voice.

To his surprise, Kimblee backed down. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said, although he sounded a little frosty. “There’s no need to be rude, though.”

“Sorry,” said Roy, without really knowing why.

Kimblee’s mouth twisted into a strange smile at that, and he squeezed a little harder. His intense focus made Roy feel tingly up and down his spine. He had to admit that Kimblee knew what he was doing, moving his hands firm and sure to ease tension that Roy hadn’t even realized he was carrying. He couldn’t quite shake his prickling sense of the danger that seemed to trail Kimblee everywhere he went, but Roy was almost feeling relaxed.

 Kimblee was paying attention to the toes now, pulling on each one so that his finger and thumb pinched together at the end. “You don’t have any lotion, do you?” he said abruptly.

Roy swallowed, trying not to think about various other activities involving Kimblee and lotion. “No.”

“That’s a shame. Lotion would make this better. But I suppose I can make do.” Kimblee pulled the pinky toe again, and then put all four of his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them thoughtfully.

Roy tensed. What the hell was Kimblee doing now? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know where this was going, but he still didn’t move as Kimblee pulled his fingers free. They shone with slickness; a small thread of saliva that connected them to his lips thinned and then broke as he put his fingertips to the base of Roy’s toes. When he caught Roy’s uncertain look, he chuckled.

“The spit’s a little unpleasant, I know,” he said, “but it does tend to make this easier…and more enjoyable.”

With that, Kimblee slid his wet fingers between Roy’s toes, stretching them apart, and now Roy groaned despite himself. The delicate skin between each toe was pulled so tight it was almost uncomfortable, but Roy was familiar with how intensely pleasurable the ache of a slow stretch could be.

And it was just so…intimate. It was entirely possible that no one had ever touched him there before.

“Mm,” said Kimblee. “That’s better.”

He slid his fingers back and forth a few times while Roy’s eyes rolled back in his head. He wondered what he had tasted like on Kimblee’s fingers, and the thought sent a jolt through his stomach. Did it make him a freak to be getting turned on? Or was he just that starved for human touch?

Kimblee withdrew his fingers and returned to rolling his thumbs over the large callouses on the balls of Roy’s foot. “Lotion would be better,” he said again. “I could soften these for you.” He sounded a little wistful.

There was something in the way that Kimblee’s pants folded at his crotch that made it look like he was half-hard. Roy’s gaze kept sliding to it. It was embarrassing that he had gotten so horny from a foot massage that he was now projecting it on someone else.

“Shall I do the other one?” asked Kimblee.

Roy nodded.

Kimblee shifted his weight, picked up the untouched foot, and settled the just-massaged one between his legs, against what was undeniably an erection.

Roy felt a thrill, and then strangely relieved. At least it was clear that the sensuality hadn’t all been in his head.  Kimblee still appeared indifferent, beginning with the same series of strokes on Roy’s other foot as though the first one wasn’t deliberately pressed against his cock.

Roy flexed the foot, just a little. Kimblee’s expression didn’t change. Was it his imagination that Kimblee’s hands paused for just a second? He pushed his foot forward again, gentle so that it could still be an accident. Kimblee’s eyes flicked briefly shut. Roy did it again—

—and Kimblee grabbed Roy’s foot and pressed against it, grinding himself into the arch, a little grunt escaping him.

Well. That certainly couldn’t be ignored.

Roy twisted his ankle to apply more pressure, but suddenly Kimblee’s nails were digging in painfully. “Hold on, Mustang,” he said, and Roy was gratified to hear a little roughness in his voice. “I’m not finished with your massage yet.”

Roy reluctantly let his ankle relax, and Kimblee let go, smoothed the marks from his nails, and returned to the other foot. “You’re impatient,” he observed. “Eager?”

Roy swallowed. “Maybe.”

Kimblee grinned, like a predator. “Maybe a little nervous, too, hm?”

“Not as nervous as you might think,” Roy ventured.

Kimblee’s grin widened. He lifted Roy’s foot to his mouth and licked slow and wet from heel to toe, then sucked Roy’s big toe into his mouth. Roy took a short, sharp breath at the warmth and movement of Kimblee’s tongue and rubbed his other foot at Kimblee’s erection again. Kimblee hummed around Roy’s toe and locked eyes with him, and Roy’s blood pounded in his face and in his cock, aching with want.

Finally Kimblee dropped Roy’s foot and said, his voice low, “Take your shirt off.”

Roy pulled the shirt off over his head, but before he had time to get comfortable with being half-naked, Kimblee was crawling up and undoing his pants, too. Pretty soon they were off, and then Kimblee was tossing his own clothes on the floor. Roy’s heart was thumping so loudly he was sure Kimblee could hear it as he crawled up with one knee on either side of Roy’s hips. Roy was already hard, too, even though he wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten here. Not that he was about to question it.

Kimblee sat back, his feet rubbing against Roy’s legs in excitement. His cock was tantalizingly close to Roy’s, jumping a little as he looked Roy over. He seemed to be deciding what to do, running his hands over Roy’s chest and stomach with the same light, near-ticklish touch as before. Roy throbbed with anticipation.

Roy’s breath caught as Kimblee’s hands made their way lazily downward, finally settling near but not upon Roy’s cock. He trailed one thumb up Roy’s length, too gently, then again, and again, and Roy broke out in a sweat and made a little desperate noise. “Please—”

“Oh, that’s very good,” said Kimblee. “I like that.” He brought Roy’s hand to his mouth and spat on it. He began to lower it, then seemed to reconsider and offered the hand back to Roy. “You too.”

Roy spat awkwardly, filling his palm. A little dripped on his stomach and ran down his wrist as Kimblee put Roy’s hand on his cock. “Touch yourself.”

Roy slicked himself with the mixture, biting back a moan of relief. Kimblee watched closely, holding his own cock but not stroking it. It wasn’t as though Roy had never found himself spread out underneath someone else before, but couldn’t quite recall anyone ever looking at him so… _possessively_. It made him self-conscious. He let his eyes close—

—and yelped when Kimblee pinched his stomach hard. “Eyes open, I think.”

Roy didn’t want to refuse—was scared to refuse—but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Kimblee’s gaze and see himself reflected there, either. It was easier to watch his own hand move.

“That’s how you like it? Slow and gentle?”

“Sometimes,” said Roy breathlessly.

Kimblee let go of his cock so that it hung free. Roy’s knuckles bumped against it as he stroked himself.

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” Kimblee murmured. “I think you like it hard and fast.”

Roy’s hand seemed to act of its own volition, speeding up at Kimblee’s words. “Yeah,” he heard himself say.

“Good,” said Kimblee. He took Roy’s wrist and pulled his hand away. Roy let out a pathetic little whine that turned into a moan as Kimblee settled himself on top of him. He nibbled Roy’s ear and whispered, “That’s how I like it, too.”

Roy whimpered and squirmed, but Kimblee pressed against him from groin to chest. “Now, now,” he said reproachfully. Roy could barely concentrate on the words, aware as he was of the pressure of Kimblee’s cock on his own.

“Hard and fast…” Kimblee said, his tongue darting out and licking the folds of Roy’s ear. Roy hadn’t known he was so sensitive there, or that every wet touch would make him groan. Kimblee was still talking quietly. “…and rough?”

“Rough?”

“Yes. What about rough?”

Roy shivered. “Rough how?”

Kimblee laughed a little. “Oh, no. First you have to say you want it.”

He sucked Roy’s earlobe into his mouth and, at the same time, rolled his hips, making Roy go hot all over. Roy was a dumb, weak animal, too stupid to listen to his brain instead of his body. He licked his lips. “I want it.”

A little, excited breath. “Good. Very good,” Kimblee said. He put his lips to Roy’s neck, gave him a soft kiss, and then bit.

It wasn’t such a hard bite, not really—not compared to what Roy had been afraid of—but Kimblee tugged on the skin, rolling it between his teeth as he pulled away and letting out a low growl of satisfaction that went straight to Roy’s dick. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing if Kimblee was so possessive. Kimblee was already giving him another bite, then another, working slow and lovingly to Roy’s shoulder, where he stopped to suck hard just above the collarbone. Roy was making some unholy noise, a combination of pained, choking gasps and strangled moans, and he became aware that he was trying to fit his hand between their bodies so he could touch himself again.

Kimblee’s hand snaked out and pinned the wandering arm down. “I don’t think so.”

Roy was shivering, despite the heat of their bodies so close together. Kimblee’s had him trapped like prey, and his mouth was deadly and exquisite. He was afraid of the marks Kimblee was surely leaving even as he was certain he didn’t want him to stop. Marks were good. Marks would remind him, at least for a few days, that this had been real. That he was real.

“I could bite a lot harder,” said Kimblee. His breath was hot over the newest sore spot, and he ran one of his feet up and down Roy’s calf. “I could make you bleed.”

For a brief, shameful second Roy considered asking for it. He was saved from having to answer when he found Kimblee hooked a thumb in his mouth. Ah. Roy sucked on it obediently.

“Maybe we’ll save that for another time,” Kimblee murmured, pulling his thumb free and swiping it wetly across Roy’s cheek. “For now—"

He moved forward until his cock pressed against Roy’s lips. “You know what to do.”

And Roy did, opening his mouth and accepting.

This was possibly his least favorite angle to do this from, but it had the distinct advantage, in this case, of keeping him from having to make eye contact with Kimblee. Instead Roy bobbed his head a little, looked at Kimblee’s stomach and thighs, and tried to do a good job. Roy didn’t want to be a bad lay, especially not when he had basically asked for it. So he made his mouth tight and kept his teeth sheathed—though, he thought, if there was ever a man who might _like_ teeth scraping his cock—

But that thought had barely crystallized when Kimblee was suddenly pushing forward, filling Roy’s mouth—too much, too much, he was at the back of Roy’s throat, and Roy coughed and tried to shove him away—

—and Kimblee bent Roy’s hands back at the wrists and held them apart, leaving him helpless and choking—

—and then he slid out of Roy’s mouth, and Roy gasped for breath, his throat working furiously to swallow. Kimblee let go of one hand to smooth Roy’s hair away from his damp forehead.

“I don’t usually enjoy this so much,” he said. “But you’re doing such a nice job.”

He did it again, this time for longer, until Roy was whining urgently. When he pulled away, Kimblee’s breathing had become rougher, his voice lower.

“Are you always this enthusiastic, Mustang? Or is it just because it’s me you’re sucking off?”

Roy didn’t want to answer that question, didn’t want to admit that it was easier not to think and to just struggle against the pressure on the back of his throat. He opened his mouth again.

Eventually, Kimblee grew bored with this game, and he moved down to straddle Roy again, letting his cock trail saliva over Roy’s stomach. “You have been fucked before, haven’t you?” he said conversationally.

Roy’s guts twisted horribly, his heart hammering.

But Kimblee only laughed. “You’re so afraid of me,” he purred, putting their cocks together, spit-slick. He pulled Roy’s hand back between them. “You do it.”

Roy could have cried with relief that Kimblee wasn’t going to fuck him with nothing but a bit of his own saliva to ease the way. He managed to get his hand around both of their cocks in a loose grip and started stroking, twisting a little the way he liked. Kimblee’s length was hot and hard against his own and felt good in Roy’s hand. Kimblee himself was breathing loudly, his arms trembling as he held himself up. He turned Roy’s head to the side and groaned against his cheek.

“Do it harder. I thought that was how you liked it, Mustang. Don’t tease me with this.”

Roy tightened his grip. Kimblee bit him again, growling, and fuck if that one didn’t hurt, pinching right on the edge of a tendon. “I said harder, or I’ll have to fuck you.”

His shoulders ached with blood and nerves and Kimblee’s arms were a cage around him. Kimblee was everywhere, the scent of his skin filling Roy’s nose, the weight of his body blocking out the rest of the world, the pain of his teeth forcing Roy’s attention to a small, sharp focus. Roy could lose himself in Kimblee’s will and lust and let everything else crumble away, and he wanted it, he wanted so badly to let go. It was almost enough. He whimpered and tried to move his hand more and bucked his hips.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” said Kimblee, scraping away from Roy’s collarbone. “Already. You want to come?”

“Yeah,” said Roy brokenly.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you,” Kimblee said. “Maybe you’ll have to jerk yourself off after I leave.”

“No,” said Roy, and then, “please,” because he knew it was what Kimblee wanted to hear. He hated himself more than a little.

“Get me off first,” Kimblee said. “Then you can come.”

Roy wasn’t sure that was going to be possible. He didn’t normally use such a firm grip—he was already struggling to stave off the familiar tightening in his groin. And although Kimblee was clearly getting more and more excited, he still seemed to need more.

“Harder,” he demanded again, and Roy complied, pumping faster and squeezing so tight he thought his forearm would cramp. “ _Yes_ ,” Kimblee groaned in his ear, and then he pushed himself up with his fingers dug into Roy’s shoulders and started thrusting hard, fucking Roy’s hand and breaking his grip, and his cock was sliding hot and slick against Roy’s—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Roy gasped, and then he was coming, making little keening noises and wet on his hand and his stomach.

He could feel Kimblee doing something with his hand, touching his stomach, and he tried to focus on it. Dimly, he recognized that Kimblee had scooped up some of Roy’s come and slicked his own cock with it. He grabbed Roy’s limp hand, curled its fingers tightly around him, and forced him to stroke. Soon he was gasping and throbbing under Roy’s touch, spilling over him, adding his own come to Roy’s.

Their panting filled the air for a few moments as Roy’s senses began to return to him. His stomach and chest were wet, his scalp was sweaty, and his shoulders ached fiercely. Roy ran his fingers over the tenderest areas and winced. He could feel the ridges Kimblee’s teeth had left, and the faint roughness from blood pulled unevenly to the surface. The marks were going to be obscene. At least the uniform would hide them, if he never took it off for the next week or so.

Kimblee straightened up and admired him, tracing a fingertip through the mess on Roy’s stomach. “You’re lovely like this,” he said, dragging a line of fluid all the way up to Roy’s collarbone. It tickled, until Kimblee twisted his knuckle into one of the bruises.

“I wasn’t so rough tonight,” Kimblee admitted. “Not as much as I wanted. I can’t play too hard with you when you’re run-down like this. You should take better care of yourself, Flame.”

Roy looked away. Being the focus of Kimblee’s attentions had been terrifying, but it had wrung Roy out and kept the panic and guilt at bay. He wasn’t ready for his thoughts to start creeping back in.

“Oh…and you failed to follow my instructions,” Kimblee said, leaning down again, careful to keep his chest clean. “You didn’t make me come first. What a shame.”

He went for Roy’s neck this time, sucking viciously at the tender flesh right at his pulse, too far up to hide. Roy closed his eyes against that and willed Kimblee to make it hurt and make it last. Maybe, if it was good enough, he could sleep peacefully for a few days. He might even be able to fall asleep as soon as Kimblee left—a thick, heavy sleep, dark and deep and dreamless.


End file.
